Wildman
by Oligarch on Steroids
Summary: Darian is 34, 6'2 and 220lbs... Leo is 13, 5'3 and 110lbs... They both happen to be earthlings. Characters from the show appear on the fifth chapter.
1. Metal & Hair

**Preface**

Hello,

I'm new to the world of Fanfiction, so any advice will be welcomed and any inconsistency will be discussed. Reviews and PMs will probably be appreciated.

**This Fanfiction focuses on the 100's characters from Chapter 5 onward.**

This Fanfiction tries to dabble on the many unknown factors of the series (or things I didn't catch, maybe?). For instance, although I'll try to do this with more or less subtlety, the nature of the "grounders" is explained in this fanfiction, as well as the reason for the nuclear holocaust. This will probably go against cannon pretty soon, and this is the main reason why it isn't outspoken.

Darian is not meant to be the stalking grounder.

If there are inconsistencies with the show, please consult the list below to check if I could (and should) have know, and write me a PM anyway to tell me what an idiot I probably am!

**Story / Show timeline**

Chapter 1 was written after the viewing of episode 01x04.

Chapter 2-4 were written after the viewing of episode 01x07.

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**Chapter 1 - Metal & Hair**

There was something different, something foul about all of this… The metal was old, but had been made new by some strange magic. Darian groaned, and the youth that had followed him shivered from the tawny sound he produced. "_Tudo bem?_" Leo asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Darian replied with a husky voice. The mist had grazed his path when he was a child, forever marking his voice with harshness. To speak truthfully, everything about Darian's appearance was ominous. He wore darkened armour of rope and titanium, a wooden mask to protect his face and assured each of his steps with the bottom of an oaken spear. His black hair was tightly tied behind his head, so dense the braid had stopped a blade once, insuring his survival: it had been the luckiest event of his life.

He was monstrous, and instilled fear in the mind of everything he met, be it human or not. Surely the travellers would flee if they were to see him.

Leo was afraid. He feared them more than the man he followed, and so he drew closer until his head rested against Darian's back.

"It came from the sky," he said with his strange accent.

"Yes, boy."

"Nothing good ever comes from the sky."

Darian nodded. Surely, even if they were from a different place, his parents had told him what their grandparents told them. What Darian's family told him, when he was still a child. It all came from the sky: the ashes, the pain, the light… The devil had brought the light. Lucifer burnt the Earth and the Earth grew back.

They were the spawn of a new world. A new humanity, surrounded with wild things to build their strength. Darian was strong. So strong he had frightened those who loved him. Only a boy as lonesome as he was had decided to join him, after he had been found in a trailer.

"_Demônios_," the boy whispered in his bizarre tongue.

"Down from Heaven, fallen angels," Darian nodded again. "Look at this one," he pointed at one of the travellers.

Leo squinted. "A woman?" he asked.

"A girl, yes."

"Why is her hair so bright?"

Darian grinned. "That's because it's clean."

"Why are you smiling?"

"Clean people are easy prey." The man stepped back slowly and went downhill, with a piece of scrap metal still in hand.

"Are you going to kill them?"

Darian shook his head. "No, boy, they are too numerous."

"You're strong."

"Not that strong."

"So… This will become their place, now? What about the hunt?"

"We'll watch for now, and live on dried meat and easy pickings… You do like glow-fruits, don't you?"

Leo acquiesced frantically with a huge smile on his dirty face.

"I found a good place, last night. I'll be sure to show you. Regarding them, they hardly seem cohesive. The Others will kill them as small groups start to detach from the herd."


	2. Words & Knighthood

**Chapter 2 - Words & Knighthood**

The man squinted at the little pictures all stuck one against the other… It was always hard to differentiate them, especially in the evening, when the light went soft and appeasing. His lips slowly formed the syllables as he decrypted them: "_aut delectare potest servum tuum cibus et potus_". His eyes then went back to the other page, where he could read. "Or can meat and drink delight thy servant?" Darian scratched his arm where a mosquito had bit him the previous night, frowning at the verse he was reading.

A cold sensation suddenly soothed the itching, and his eyes met Leo's. The boy had wandered around camp and came back with ointment. Darian was often amazed by the youth ability to use the vegetation around him. However, he could not skin a deer to save his own hide. The man did not thank him with words but with a slight nod, it was enough for his little companion to feel proud.

The Holy Bible & the Vulgate, he read on the cover. A dark leathered book which he had been born with.

Leo picked up the cloth Darian usually wore around his biceps from a basin where he had cleaned it. "What is this?" he asked.

"It's something my mother gave me before I could talk."

The boy shook his head and extended the tissue to let a blue and white symbol appear. "What is this?"

"_That_ is an eagle."

"Have you ever seen one?"

"No, it's my crest," Darian answered with a grin. At least, that's what he had thought when he was a child, listening to stories of knights and princesses from one of his aunts, who read from a book. He had really little understanding of heraldry, and had a lot of false ideas about it.

"_Crest_," the adolescent repeated. He had never heard the word spoken, before.

"It's a way to represent me and my family," the man explained.

Leo paused for an instant, contemplating the concept, and uttered: "Then, I want it to be my crest too!"

Darian's eyes widened. He had never thought of his crest as something he could share with anyone new, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. Ah! It was time anyway that he parted with this piece of memento. He was not a child anymore. He had no need for false ideas of grander. Theatrically, he took his knife out and held it up.

The boy cringed.

"Don't worry," Darian said with a tone that was closer to that of an order rather than an apology. He put the blade on each of the boy shoulder, then took the piece of cloth and tied it around Leo's arm. "You are now a knight of the eagle crest."

When he took a step back, Darian was surprised by the look in Leo's eyes. He felt this might have been the first time he ever saw him truly happy.


	3. Trees & Blood

**Chapter 3 – Trees & Blood**

Darian held his left hand flat in front of his mouth. Leo nodded, as he understood he had to stay as silent as possible. As nimble as ever, the boy was sitting on a large branch, in the heights of the forest.

The Others were walking in close formation, probably travelling rather than hunting. This was a good thing. Darian had learned not to overestimate them: they weren't invulnerable. They had sharp reflexes, deadly weapons and a good training, but so did he. He also knew the terrain.

Darian could not risk being seen, so he stood in place, watching the boy attentively until he raised his hand. They had all passed him. The man grabbed his spear-thrower on his side and reached for the dart next to him. He had made the lever himself, it was long and solid, made in his image, and he probably could have clubbed someone with it.

The 8-foot arrow flew through the air, with fletching made of the remains of a plastic bottle, and a fire hardened tip. The Other fell on the ground before he could scream, his thigh pierced by the missile. They immediately spread to make another shot more difficult and turned back, to watch the woods from which the first one had been fired.

Many thought that the Others were omniscient, for their improbable ability to read their settings, but Darian knew it wasn't true. He had fought them many times, ever victorious, often wounded. He lied still, hidden under the bed of the forest. His eyes once again rose to watch the boy: his look-out.

Leo raised his left hand and stood still.

The man felt the adrenaline rush through his system. Though he didn't know the existence of that hormone, the feeling was familiar. His heart pounding, the strange downward motion inside him, like everything went to rest before the sudden surge of energy in his arms and legs. It was hard to stay hidden, hard to keep his breath as calm as possible, hard not to act.

Leo's hand fell.

Darian's spear rose.

The scrap metal struck the Other in the back of the neck and he fell backward when Darian drew it back. For good measure, the man rotated his weapon and plunged it in his opponent's throat, but there was no struggle for air. The light was still fading in his eyes, but his limbs were already dead.

The fighter did not bother to look around him, and once again turned to his sidekick. The boy pointed behind him.

Darian turned and rushed forward, only to jump back a moment later. The Other's machete had almost struck him. The blade allowed quick movement and was very useful amongst the trees, but it was also a poor choice of weaponry when facing someone with a spear and the means to use it. The Other was trusting his armour, his metallic mask too. Darian waited for him to attack.

The man shifted his weight on his left leg and leaned forward, dodging the slicing motion has he drove the spearhead in the Other's ankle. He let go of the shaft and turned to avoid the backhand blow, drawing his dirk at the same time. The sturdy knife slipped beneath the darkened metal and cut the neck, but the Other grabbed his arm before he could slit his throat.

Darian hit his head on a root as he fell forward, propelled by his enemy. The sound he heard when he did was scarier than the injury itself, and he did not bother checking for blood when he hastily tried to rise back on his feet. His hand found the bark of a tree and he stood up. His vision came back in an instant, soon enough that he folded his arm before it was chopped off by a vengeful blade.

The man grabbed the Other by the shoulder and held his head down, so that he wouldn't get his nose broken by a head-butt served with a helmet. He knew that his dagger wouldn't get though the armour, but he knew where to strike. The dirk entered the Other's leg like it was butter and exited it with much bloodshed. Darian didn't know the name of the femoral artery, but he knew its existence as well as its importance. He tightened his grip on his opponent's shoulder in order to obfuscate any attempt at using his machete in any meaningful manner.

A cry from above.

Darian pushed with all his might on the Other's torso and grabbed his spear. He threw it with precision, but sadly his new assailant's armour stopped it and it fell on the ground.

This was the last of them, and he probably would have taken Darian out if Leo had not been here to warn him. The boy might have been a mouth to feed, but he was a reliable companion.

The Other jumped on Darian, armed with a knife, but the blade skid against the titanium of his jerry-rigged hair-pipe breastplate.

Darian was not insane and so he was fearful. It might have been that fear that explained the sudden energy rush, the inexplicable strength, but with a single strike of the elbow against the aggressor's chin, he killed the Other.

Darian looked at Leo.

The boy nodded.

It was over.


	4. Boots & Family

**Chapter 4 – Boots & Family**

Leo knew better than to come to Darian just after he fought. It took no less than half an hour before the young adolescent decided he could confidently approach. As he always did, the man was stripping the cadavers of anything of value. As ever, Leo helped him, and did not initiate eye contact or conversation, as he knew Darian was hardly sociable in this situation.

The man did talk after a while, though, as he noticed the youth had a perplexed look on his face. "What's the matter?"

"They all wear the same shoes, and most of them have the same trousers," Leo remarked.

Darian nodded. "Black rubber and green fabric. The Others always do." He frowned. "You didn't notice, before?"

The boy looked down. "No, Sir."

The man grinned. "No need to look so grim, boy. No one is always alert."

"You are!" Leo retorted.

"I only need to look like I am, but that's not true. Really, no one is invincible. Never forget that."

"Why?" the youth asked, apparently oblivious to the importance of such a belief.

"If you think you can't win, you can't fight."

Leo seemed to meditate on that for the remainder of their scavenging. He was a thinker, much more than Darian ever was. The boy would probably have been better off with a larger group. Sadly, the man had left his family long ago and had found nothing but an empty camp when he tried to find them back, a few years ago. He was optimistic, though. They had always been prone to move on when the place they lived in became too difficult to live in.

When the duo came back to their camp, Darian opened his black-leathered book once more. It was his mother's legacy. A strange piece of literature filled with wonder, awe and terror. Once again, he read this passage, from the second book of kings, and read both the English and the Latin verses. Why was this noun so important to his family? What was this drink his crest was always tied to? Often, Darian wondered about his origins.

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?" Leo asked, as he was playing with a stick.

"I had two of each… Last time I saw my family, only my older brother and my younger sister remained. What about you?"

"My mother was _embuchada_ many times… I was the only one to make it past ten." The boy's voice remained neutral, and Darian nodded. Those were the truths of their time: miscarriages and infantile deaths. They were used to it, it was normal.

"Do you remember their names?"

"Not all of them," the youth answered. "She said I was her last. My closest brother, _Guga_, died four years ago… _Névoa_," he specified.

Darian frowned.

"Yellow smoke?" Leo offered as a possible translation.

The mist… Darian too could have died because of it, though much younger than Leo's brother did. He sighed. "What about your parents?" the man inquired with his usual gravelly tone.

"They left for food, never came back. They are probably dead."

There was a brief silence. "Probably, yes," the fighter replied. There was no use for false hopes.

"What about yours?"

Darian shrugged. "We'd better go find something to eat."


	5. Percussion & Gold

_There be spoilers._

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**Chapter 5 – Percussion & Gold**

There was something strange in the air… At least it was strange on Earth. Vibrations, sounds, beautiful sounds, rhythmic sounds, harmonic sounds, melodic sounds, musical sounds. Happiness grew entangled with fear. Their camp was too far for the music to come from there.

Clarke had been the daughter of an engineer and a council member. She had been raised by practical, responsible people, and so she used the values she had been raised with to help the group. When it came to her personal life, though, she had been nothing but emotional. She had felt the need to share an important piece of information that could have cost her father's life – and that she thought did. She had hastily judged her best friend, without ever giving him the benefit of the doubt, only to pardon him before he was killed – a brief moment of luck before the tragedy, she would have never forgiven herself otherwise. Now… Now she was rambling through the woods with only a piece of scrap metal for weapon, and in the probable presence of grounders. A stupid move she had made because she couldn't stay near Finn and his girlfriend.

It was no surprise she was startled when she discovered the sole responsible for what she was hearing was a thirteen year-old boy with a wooden ball in one hand and some kind of drum under the other. Even though he was young, she had no doubt he wasn't from the Ark. He was wearing clothes both made from fabric, leather and skin. He truly seemed like a savage, a woodman, shaking his head mindlessly while performing some kind of ritualistic humming. He was obviously talented, but he hadn't learnt that from anyone.

Startled, the blonde girl was once more when the boy saw her and yelled out of fear, falling on the ground and not waiting to rise up again to try and distance himself from her with both hands and feet. The surprise however soon faded to be replaced with something else: guilt. She felt terrible for inspiring such fear to such a young person, even if he was a grounder.

Until now, they had only met strong and agile men: warriors or hunters, that would kill them without mercy or hesitation. Finding a singing youth was something different. She never thought she would ever be considered a threat by someone from Earth. "It's okay!" she said. "I don't mean you any harm," she tried to comfort him, never minding that it was very probable they didn't speak the same language.

The boy eventually reached a tree and used its trunk to get on his feet again. He kept his hands on the bark, behind his back, and looked at her with a lowered head, apparently trying not to look too confronting.

Clarke raised her hands, showing her palms, to show that she wasn't wielding any weapon and try to calm him down a bit. "Look, everything is okay." Strangely enough, he wasn't looking at the knife on her belt, and stared at her head instead, though she soon realised he wasn't looking at her face. Her hair was frightening him, somehow. She acted instinctively and attached them behind her head.

She tried to approach him, but the boy suddenly turned on his heels and in an instant found his way to the tree tops. The image of a monkey instantly jumped in Clarke's mind. Maybe he wasn't a strong man, but the boy was surely agile, and his bizarre clothes made a decent camouflage in the foliage. He moved pretty quickly, and before long, had disappeared, above, traveling from branch to branch using hands and legs.

The blonde girl remained still for a moment, watching the leaves tremble under the wind. She sighed lightly and looked down after a while. They surely could use some music back at the camp. The instruments would be much welcome, and they surely could make more once they'd figure out how those were made.


	6. Conflict & Beans

_There be spoilers_

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**Chapter 6 – Conflict & Beans**

"And you say this was a kid's?"

Clarke nodded. "Yes, he could have been no more than fourteen."

Bellamy was sitting on a stump, a wooden ball in his hand. He tilted his head on the side as he rotated it, listening to the sound it made. There must have been something inside or something. They didn't have that kind of instrument on the Ark. Luckily enough; they were a little more evolved than that. He sighed and gave it back to her.

"Do you think we should worry about him?" the young man asked.

"No, he seemed to be comfortable in the woods." She thought back about the way he disappeared amongst the branches, above her head. "In fact, he is a good climber."

"I'm not talking about helping him, but protecting ourselves… Was he close to camp?"

"Not close enough that he could have known about it. He was afraid of me. He won't come around here."

"You don't know that!" he retorted, quite bluntly. She cared about the group – he knew that from what she had been ready to do to save Spacewalker – but she was too kind. She wanted things to be resolved peacefully, even though it weren't always the case. At least, he was confident she could act under pressure. The grounder and Atom had given her the chance to prove it.

Bellamy blinked.

"Maybe he saw you…"

"What do you mean?" A surprised Clarke asked.

"Maybe he spied on us, maybe he was there when you…" He couldn't bring himself to say that she killed him: the fog did. With clenched jaws, he quickly looked for a euphemism. "… helped Atom."

"How did that come to mind?"

"Why would a grounder brat be afraid of you, princess? He must have seen you do something scary. Killing someone seems to fit the bill." He was a bit angry because she didn't come to him as soon as she came back. Instead, he had to go to her, asking where she had found the instruments a few people seemed quite excited about – Jasper and Monty most of all. However, Bellamy couldn't help but feel he had been a bit harsh with her, reminding her of Atom, at least before she retorted something with her usual strength of character:

"Well, he is a _grounder brat_ like you said. He probably saw more disturbing things than euthanasia." She shook her head. "No, there was something else. He was looking at my hair."

Bellamy looked at her perplexedly. "What? Blondes are instinct?" he asked with a sarcastic tone.

"I don't know…" She sighed. The handsome leader of the group was starting to get on her nerves, and she'd better check Finn's stiches before it was dark. She shrugged and turned away. To get to the drop ship, she walked past Jasper who was apparently accustomed to drumming, but not to belly-dancing, as he and Monty looked with dropped jaws and widened eyes at one of Bellamy's girls enjoying the rhythm. Clarke looked up, piqued by the fact that even here – where survival was everything – most still had more interest in aesthetics than skills. Those girls could have been taught to collect seaweed, or to make weapons, or whatever… But no, there job was to look pretty and to please the alpha male.

She looked pretty grim when she got to the table they transformed into a makeshift hospital bed for Finn. The fact that the latter was laughing at one of Raven's joke didn't really help.

"Hey," the beautiful dark-haired mechanic said with an honest smile. She had traded her bitter attitude for a grateful one after Clarke had saved her boyfriend. That didn't make Clarke feel any better, but she had made a choice, she had to stick to it: it was the right thing to do.

"Hi," the blonde girl replied, placing the ball on a nearby piece of furniture.

She then removed the attempt at a poultice she made with seaweed and looked at the wound. The stitches were well in place, there was no sign of inflammation, the skin was a bit discoloured, but it was all right. Finn did not seem to suffer any aftereffects of the poison or the anti-poison, apart from a constant need to drink probably due to a powerful diuretic effect.

"You really are something," Clarke told Raven jokingly, soon wondering why she would even do that as her prime wish at the moment was never to be in the presence of this couple again. The answer was evident: it wasn't Raven's fault, and she was a valuable part of the group.

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently, you kept him from doing anything acrobatic. Everything looks good."

Clarke heard the girl sigh of relief. With everything that happened, the medical apprentice had almost forgotten to take the time to be happy Finn lived. Just taking a minute to realise he was out of trouble. She felt a bit selfish and looked down.

"Oh, please, talk about me like I'm not even here!" Spacewalker said with a charismatic smile.

Clarke kept her head down, but she couldn't help smiling at his voice. Yes, he was back.

"What's that?" he asked, grabbing the ball.

"Some kind of rattle," Clarke replied. "I tried to open it, but it's no use."

Finn shook the ball. "Sounds like a rumba shaker."

Immediately, Raven seemed to pick up the challenge. "Give me that," she ordered her boyfriend before taking it from his hand anyway. She looked at it closely and ran her nails on the surface. Eventually, she drew her knife. "It must be a tight fit."

Clarke had to force herself not to turn towards Finn and exchange an amused look with him. It would have been as inappropriate as awkward. The double entendre was a lost source of humour between them. She cringed a little when she realised that the unfortunate expression had in fact sparkled a bit of smutty glee between the two of them. For a split second, Clarke felt lonely.

"I mean that it must have been put together with a mallet," Raven explained with a soft laughter.

Even when she was giggling, that girl didn't sound stupid. Jealousy was looming.

"A mallet?" Finn asked.

"A wooden hammer, or even with a rubber head. It doesn't leave a mark." Raven's nimble fingers drove the blade between the two hemispheres of the ball and she tapped on the handle with her palm. There was a small "_pock_" and it opened. Something spilled on the table, little grains.

"Beans," Clarke commented.

Finn turned his head a little too quickly. "Really?" he asked.

"I didn't know beans could get you so excited, handsome." Raven remarked.

Clarke cringed at the nickname.

"Are you kidding me?" Finn asked, apparently surprised she didn't get why.

"What?" Clarke retorted probably a little more harshly than she would have like. She had no idea herself.

"Whoever made this grows beans, probably other vegetables too. If we can't get to the resources sent from the Ark, we probably should try to get some seeds and start crops of our own."


	7. Spoilers

**Spoilers**

**Do not read this unless you've read all the chapters and only if you want to make sure your conclusions are those I intended **(it doesn't mean your version isn't the right one, just that it wasn't the one I had in mind for this Fanfiction)**.**

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**Things possibly intended in the show:**

The story takes place in Virginia.

Mount Weather's underground facilities were used as intended for the Continuity of Operations Plan.

The Grounders are the remnants of the National Guard and still guard the facilities from any outsiders - they ran out of bullets long ago.

**Things proper to the Fanfiction:**

Darian is the descendent of the President of the United States, a fervently religious leader. (His "crest" is actually the seal of the president. He is always looking at this passage of the bible, because he tries to understand the acronym "POTUS", thinking it was a word. (Trivia: Potus in Latin gave the word Potion in English.))

The Others (part of the Grounders) pretty much decided they didn't have much more to give to their country since it doesn't really exist anymore.

**The NN scenario (part of the Fanfiction):**

The "No Nukes" scenario is that there was no nuclear holocaust.

The rise of the sea level lead to less habitable land while the population kept growing. Overpopulation put a strain on international relations. The United States Capitol is underwater.

The approach of a "global meteorological cataclysm" became more and more obvious, be it a worldwide drought or a new ice-age. The G8, under the leadership of the USA, began a fail-safe program known as "The Ark", obviously inspired by biblical events.

In an attempt to rekindle Earth's ecosystem which is slowly dying, the scientific community miraculously achieved a system to "overgrow" nature, with the vast possibility of doing things wrong (thus two-headed deer, no radiation poisoning, spread of forests and glowing butterflies, because no, there is no effing Cherenkov effect on the wings of a bug).

The Ark was loaded with a large population from all over the world (because inbreeding is a B-word) with a simple rule: one children only, thus reducing the population to a mere 800, two centuries later.


End file.
